bird will not pierce to the unsleeping, subconscious 

 car and arouse me instantly to alertness in every fibre 

 of my being. I wonder if even death will make me 

 insensate to the first chirp of a vanguard robin in 

 March. 



During that half -awake first year of country life 

 I was walking with a nature-wise man and as we 

 passed by a field where the cut hay lay wilting, he 

 whiffed and said, " There's a good deal of rag weed 

 in that hay." I gazed on him with the admiration 

 I've saved all my life for wizards and wondered what 

 peculiar brand of nose he had. 



Then the heart, the poor jaded heart, that must 

 etherize itself to endure the grimness of city life at 

 all, how subtly it begins throbbing again in unison 

 with the great symphony of the natural. The awak- 

 ened heart can sense spring in the air when there is no 

 visible suggestion in calendar or frosted earth, and 

 knowing the songful secret, the heart can cause the 

 feet to dance through a day that would only mean 

 winter to an urbanite. 



The sense of taste can only be restored by a con- 

 stant diet of unwilted vegetables and freshly picked 

 fruit. 



The delicacy of touch comes back gradually by 

 198 



